


Sharing

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Snow tries a new job wherein Hope’s his first client.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a mild AU without the quest and aging them up to Hope’s first appearance in FFXIII-2 at 24.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She kisses him before she leaves and says, for what must be the hundredth time, “It’s okay, really.”

He tells her, “You’re the best girlfriend _ever_ ,” and kisses her so hard she nearly falls over, but can’t because he’s holding her waist. As soon as he comes up for air, she’s giggling, and she pecks his cheek and tugs his bandana affectionately back into place.

Then Serah’s out the door and winking at his wave. He watches her all down the beach, not shutting the door until she’s so far in the distance that she’s little more than a speck. And he’s alone in their house. At least until his client shows up.

His first client.

Snow wanders back to the kitchen as he takes a deep breath. It’s not really _that_ different, he tells himself—he’s been doing porn for months. Since Serah doesn’t like him fighting, doesn’t want him hurt or hurting others, it’s the next most logical job for him. She says he’s a natural naked, and he’s not exactly camera shy.

But posing for a magazine is a lot different than actually _touching_ someone, and he still can’t believe she’s letting him do this. She says she thinks it’s _hot_. He said he wouldn’t take on any women out of respect for her, but he’s not even sure who else he wants to sleep with, and half the excitement is just the adventure, and the rest of him is too dazed to think of the pros and cons because he just can’t believe _she’s letting him have sex with other people._

He might let her. Maybe. If it was another woman, perhaps, and one he trusted, like Lebreau. But he never expected that to come out of the deep recesses of fantasy. He downs a glass of water and stares at the clock above the sink.

Then the doorbell rings and he nearly jumps out of his overcoat. _The client_. Right. Some boy named ‘Hope’ that answered the ad as soon as he let the agency print it, and he said, _“Just this one until I see how it goes,”_ right after. He’s popular enough that they let him.

He didn’t answer the call himself; it was an agency number. He doesn’t know what _Hope_ sounds like. Looks like. Just that he paid the agency and had to be old enough. Snow forgets he’s just staring at the door, lost in thought, until the bell rings again and shocks him out of it.

Then he’s rushing for the door with the same headstrong ferocity he does everything with—the trepidation gets buried under confidence.

He has one last second to think he probably should’ve had them give a hotel address instead of his home, and then it’s too late, and he’s yanking the door open.

The boy on the other side looks poised to go, half turned away, and startles at the sudden movement. He’s shorter than Snow, _smaller_ , and swings his head around to ogle Snow’s chest before wrenching his gaze up to Snow’s smile.

“Hope?” Snow asks. He sounds completely sure already. This isn’t going to be hard at all.

The boy nods, his silver hair rustling lightly in the Bodhum breeze. His clear eyes are wide, his blush lips slightly parted. He’s slim and crisply dressed in a white-yellow uniform, with a blue tie that Snow has half a mind to pull him in by. Hope pauses, then seems to come to and looks around, asking hurriedly, “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Snow holds the door open, but before he can step aside, Hope ducks under that arm to come in. It gives Snow a smile—most people are smaller than him, but he likes those especially lithe next to his stockier frame. 

Snow’s careful to lock the door, just in case the seaside wind tries to blow it open. Hope’s already looking about the place, and Snow’s bizarrely grateful that Serah picked up this morning—it looks nice enough. Hope looks nervous anyway. Snow takes a step towards him and says, “Don’t worry. No one’s home. My fiancé should be gone for the next five hours.”

Hope startles again at this, looks back at Snow, and squeaks, “Fiancé?” Before Snow can say anything, Hope shakes his head and corrects, “Right, right, of course—I’m sorry, I forgot.” Snow just lifts a confused brow, and Hope’s high cheeks flush a faint pink. “N-not that I looked you up or anything, it’s just... you’re everywhere right now, so I’d heard... never mind.” His nervous features smooth out into a determined expression that looks so forced it’s adorable. Snow has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his own grin in check. 

He doesn’t care if Hope looked him up. He’s done enough modeling that he’s a known name in certain circles. Hope visibly fights not to fidget under Snow’s gaze, and it makes Snow feel inclined to ask, “You’re pretty jumpy. Are you sure you’re ready for this, kid...?” 

Instantly, Hope’s face darkens, and he snaps, “I’m not a kid! I’m twenty-four.”

That explains the uniform. Glancing pointedly down at it, Snow probes, “And you work for the Academy...?” At Hope’s sudden panicked look, Snow quickly amends, “Just an observation from the clothes. I didn’t look into you past the agency’s background check. This is completely confidential, I swear.”

Hope doesn’t look so sure. At least Snow has the comfort of knowing he clearly isn’t the only one who this is a first time experience for. Snow’s quiet for another minute or two anyway, until Hope relaxes again, then sighs and mutters, “Sorry, I... I don’t usually do stuff like this.”

“But then you saw me and just couldn’t resist?” Snow can’t help a wide smirk, to which Hope turns a lovely shade of pink. “I’m not judging.”

But judging from Hope’s reaction, that’s exactly it. Because Hope clearly doesn’t know how this is supposed to go, Snow pretends he does. He offers out a hand that Hope hesitantly takes, and Snow guides him by it past the couches and back into the bedroom.

There are still two beds in it. They keep the second one for when Lightning visits, though she’s never willing to sleep in a room where Snow and Serah share, so he usually ends up on the couch for those nights. Hope looks at it, but Snow doesn’t explain—maybe it’ll be easier for Hope to think Snow’s having trouble in paradise rather than a semi-open relationship with an amazing woman. Then Hope looks down at his shoes and tugs at his sleeve.

His shoes, right. Snow didn’t even give him time to toe them off. Snow’s in socks. He doesn’t quite know how to start, but it’s not difficult to _want_ to start things with Hope. Snow knows he got lucky. This kid is _cute_. And it’s _too_ easy to reach out and clap large hands around his slender shoulders.

Hope looks up at the contact, and that’s all Snow needs. He tugs Hope a fraction closer, letting Hope half stumble against him, and he leans down to brush his lips over Hope’s parted lips.

He half expects Hope to push away. But instead, Hope surges up, slamming his face into Snow’s so hard that Snow nearly falls back from the impact. Instead, he grips Hope harder. He tilts his face so their noses aren’t digging into one another, and he guides the kiss closed, then open, and Hope follows, wide enough that Snow can shove his tongue inside. Hope makes a muffled noise of surprise followed swiftly by a moan, and he sucks Snow’s tongue right into his mouth. His bare hands cling haltingly to Snow’s jacket, tightening a fraction with each second they’re still kissing. Snow grinds the kiss in, his stubble scratching against Hope’s smooth chin and his tongue licking at every little crevice. For someone that acts so inexperienced, Hope’s a damn good kisser. 

Through a slew of kisses, one lewd swipe of tongue after another, Snow maneuvers them around. He pushes Hope back, and Hope goes where he’s put. When Snow can feel the resistance of the mattress against Hope’s knees, he lets go of Hope’s mouth, only to nip at Hope’s chin, unable to keep away, and licks along Hope’s jaw down to his throat. Hope moans all the louder, head tilting back, hands tracing beneath Snow’s arms to clutch at his shoulder blades. The jacket’s too thick—Snow wishes he could feel more. He tugs Hope’s collar aside to suck a red mark into Hope’s neck, then murmurs into it, “What do you want, kid?”

This time, Hope doesn’t fight the nickname. His breath already sounds quicker, and his voice is hoarse when he mutters, “Um... we... we’ll have sex, right...?” The words feel _wrong_ : too sinful for such a sweet face. Snow gets a shiver of delight from the debauchery alone. He nods and gives Hope’s neck one last teasing bite, then detangles himself enough to walk around the bed. Hope looks reluctant to let him go.

Snow doesn’t go far. He strips off his coat on the way, tossing it over to the far bed, and then he hops right onto the mattress, sprawling out against the pillows. A condom and a little bottle of lube are waiting in the nightstand—he pulls them out to leave atop it. Hope glances at them, but then his eyes are glued to Snow again. Snow settles in, basking in the attention, until Hope asks, “Ah... should you be so... um, dressed...?”

No. But he’s half used to others tearing off his clothes for him—handlers on the set of a shoot or Serah in the heat of it. He pulls his shirt right over his head, throwing it carelessly atop his jacket, then remembers to deal with the silver necklaces dangling down his chest. He can feel Snow ogling him the entire time, somewhere between embarrassed and awestruck. Snow knows he’s conventionally attractive, but the reassurance is still fun. With the necklaces next to the condom and lube on the nightstand, Snow stops to look at Hope before he stars on his fly. He doesn’t break eye contact as he shuffles out of his pants, kicking them off to leave just his white boxers and black bandana. Hope looks like he might pass out any second. Then Snow goes the extra distance—he pushed down his boxers enough to fish out his cock. As soon as the head’s peaking out, Hope lets out a high-pitched choking noise. 

Snow pulls his entire dick out. He leaves the boxers on, his large balls still trapped inside, but he twists his fingers under the shaft to put most on display. He knows from experience on the set that he’s far larger than average, and he’s sure Hope knew that from Snow’s magazines—his size is one of his best features. Hope looks like he agrees.

He also looks like Snow could push him over with one finger. Snow doesn’t mind, just strokes himself while Hope gets his fill. Snow’s already half hard from the kiss and anticipation—Hope’s the sort of man that’s easy to get hard for. 

Hope doesn’t do anything but stare, and eventually, Snow has to say, “Your turn.” It starts Hope out of his reverie, and he jerks his head up, red as a tomato. Snow has to elaborate, “Your clothes?”

“R-right!” Hope starts jerking almost frantically at his tie. His outfit’s ridiculously complicated, but that’s the fashion on Cocoon. He has a plethora of straps and buckles to get off, his shoes to kick out of, and then he’s practically ripping his jacket off his shoulders and shedding it straight to the floor. He hesitates before pushing out of his pants, but then he sucks in a breath and does it, while Snow admires the lithe lines of his legs. He stays in a black t-shirt underneath and beige boxers, then looks awkwardly at the bed.

Snow extends a hand that Hope takes. His fingers feel impossibly small in Snow’s massive palm. Snow pulls him forward in one swift tug, and Hope goes tumbling into Snow’s lap with an undignified squawk. He scrambles up, and Snow helps reposition him, throwing one of Hope’s legs to either side of Snow’s waist and pulling him up, sliding Hope right down, his creamy thighs parting around Snow’s heavy cock. Snow’s breath hitches at the touch, the warmth, and the obvious outline in Hope’s boxers. Hope bucks his hips forward once, dragging them together, and Snow takes a hold of Hope’s hips to hold them still. If they get started now, Snow won’t last through preparation with a body like this so eager for him.

He means to reach for the side table but can’t help a few liberties along the way. He takes a little squeeze, and when that makes Hope gasp, Snow’s thumbs flick under Hope’s shirt, and he dares to push it up—Hope doesn’t stop him. Hope makes a little noise that could be either encouragement or protest, so Snow goes slowly just in case, bunching up the fabric, revealing a smooth, soft stomach and taut chest, and two rosy nipples already a little pebbled. When the shirt won’t go any higher, Snow scrunches it to stay hiked under Hope’s armpits, and he tugs Hope’s hips forward just enough to arch Hope’s back and keep the shirt in place. It gives him a chance to admire Hope’s breast. Hope mumbles, “I’m not... ah... nearly as toned as you are...”

“You’re damn pretty,” Snow blurts, realizing too late that that’s probably not the right thing to say to a man who’s already self-conscious. Hope just blushes. Snow bends down to flick his tongue over one nipple. Hope lets out a little cry, his hands flying to clutch at Snow’s hair beneath the bandana. A few licks and the little bud in the center hardens enough for Snow to latch his mouth around it, and he suckles on it while Hope squirms in his lap and spills a litany of keening noises. By the time Snow’s licking his way over to attack the other nipple, his cock’s throbbing hard against Hope’s soft thighs. 

“S-Snow...” Hope moans, pulling a little too hard at Snow’s hair. He’s the one to pull Snow off, and Snow goes with a wet popping sound, leaving flushed, glistening skin behind. “...Snow, _please_...”

Right. Sex. That’s what the kid paid for. He gets the impression from Hope’s wrecked face that if Snow doesn’t hurry up, Hope will spend himself right here. Snow can’t resist leaning in for another kiss, and Hope dives at him just as fiercely this time, melting into an aggressive, messy kiss that Snow has to force himself away from. Hope’s too tempting. Snow nips at his cheek again and repeats under his breath, “ _Damn pretty._ ”

He goes for the lube first, pours some into his palm, then caps the bottle and puts it back to ask, “How do you want to do this?”

“Oh...” Hope pauses, looking mesmerized at the sight of Snow’s thick fingers rubbing the lube around them. “I, ah... you like to... you said in an interview you like to top, so...”

Snow can feel another smirk coming on. He can’t help but tease, “Now what’s a beautiful kid like you doing reading up on porn stars?” Hope’s face instantly scrunches into a defensive look, so Snow laughs and corrects, “Hey, not judging! Just wondering, ‘cause I bet you already have everyone at the Academy lusting over you, with a face like that...”

Hope actually cringes. At least the look of horror filters away as Snow slides his wet hands back into Hope’s boxers, slipping right along the curve of his ripe ass. Snow gives a light squeeze, and Hope gasps, “Oh! I... I just want... I don’t know, I need _some_ release, and you...” He pauses to bite his lip, but when Snow digs his fingers into Hope’s crack and pries his cheeks apart, some of that shyness dissipates. “...There’s no one at the Academy as _big_ as you... or as hot...”

“Sounds like somebody has a crush,” Snow chuckles. Hope tries to scowl, but his features are too sweet for it.

“Y-you’re also brash sometimes, and you’ve said some really stupid thi— _ahhh_!” Popping one blunt fingertip into Hope’s furrowed hole seems to effectively kill the criticism. If anything, Snow’s flattered that Hope’s apparently followed him enough to even have criticism. As Snow gently pistons his finger deeper, Hope leans forward to drape himself around Snow’s broad shoulders, clinging tightly to them. Snow reaches up to pet his back with one free hand and kisses the shell of his ear.

He’s _tight_. Snow figured he would be, small and young as he is. His puckered muscles keep clenching, but Snow’s patient and made sure to use plenty of lube. He purrs into Hope’s ear, “Relax,” and eventually makes his way to the knuckle. 

Then he has to stop petting Hope to fetch more lube, and he slicks himself up before trying two fingers. Hope cries out when both breech him, but Snow halts instantly and waits for him to stop trembling before proceeding. Snow double checks, “You sure you wanna do this, kid? You’ve seen just how big I am...”

“I can _feel_ it,” Hope moans, his hips bucking once against Snow’s lap. It jostles the fingers inside him and makes him whimper after, Snow’s teeth already grit, fighting to hold back from doing the same. As if he can sense it, Hope mutters, “Sorry,” then, “P... please, keep going...”

Snow says, “Okay,” and kisses his cheek. Then it’s back to fingering him open, nice and slow, until Hope’s trembling and Snow’s three big fingers deep. He doesn’t think he can take much more himself. When he pats Hope’s hip, Hope obediently lifts right up onto his knees. Snow lets his fingers slide out and drinks in Hope’s shudder. 

The condom’s all that’s left. Snow tears the package open with his teeth and gets right to rolling it on. It might be more fun to let Hope do it, but it’s faster this way. He applies a bit more lube to the outside when it’s in place, just in case, and Hope begs, “ _Snow_...” His name sounds way too good on Hope’s lips. 

He has to pull Hope’s boxers down his thighs for this to work, but Hope hurriedly snatches at the front and keeps it covering his crotch. Snow lets him, half because this is a paid session and not a lover’s negotiation, and half because Snow’s not picky in bed. He’d like to see what Hope’s packing, but the rest of Hope’s enough, and he’d rather Hope be comfortable. Especially since a part of this is bound to be uncomfortable, even with all the preparation. Snow positions his cock under Hope and presses the veiled tip against Hope’s ass, dragging between Hope’s cheeks, until he can feel the wet brim of Hope’s hole. Hope sucks in a breath. 

Snow grabs Hope’s thigh with one hand and gives a little push—Hope takes the order and presses down.

The first pop inside is just a little bit—Hope pauses there with the head breaching him and cries out, buckling forward—Snow grabs his chin and diverts his mouth to a kiss. It works, distracting him enough for Snow to push up a little more. He swallows Hope’s whimper and starts to make his way one centimeter at a time, a tiny bit in and just as much out, while Hope squirms and kisses him back desperately. Even without much inside, the feeling’s already exquisite—Hope’s insides are hot as hell, velvet soft and _so_ tight. It takes all of Snow’s control not to just shove his way brutally inside. He knows he could. Could bend Hope right back and pound into him, mount him like a dog and fuck him like animal. But Hope’s clearly struggling to take it as it is, and Snow behaves himself, goes slow, holds onto Hope and pauses when it seems Hope needs the break. 

Once, when he pauses too long, Hope ends the kisses to moan, “No, please—keep going, I, ah—” And Snow does, and Hope whines but pushes back. He has a _great_ ass. Snow almost feels guilty taking the money.

Hope works at the Academy, he reminds himself. Hope can afford it. Hope runs his hands all over Snow’s body as they kiss, first just resting against his shoulders, then running down to feel his pecs, tracing his six-pack and squeezing his biceps. Snow finally gets in all the way, balls deep, and he gives one last push just for good measure, that bounces Hope up and wracks out another cry.

Snow waits there, giving Hope a moment to adjust. Hope licks at the corner of Snow’s mouth and moans, “Augh, you’re _so_ big...”

“And you’re tight,” Snow grunts, meaning to laugh but too far-gone to get it right. He pats Hope’s hip affectionately, earning another whimper. “Worth the money?”

Hope blushes but nods, then whines, “Fuck me?”

Snow obliges.

The first real thrust tosses Hope right up, gravity slamming him back down right after, the wet squelching sounds of slapping skin ringing in the air. It’s drowned out in Hope’s scream. Snow grabs his hips tight and guides him up for the next one, and after that, Hope lifts before Snow can thrust, and that’s even better—he twists his body and corkscrews back down. Snow keeps his hands where they are but lets Hope do the work. Hope rides his cock like a natural, bouncing up and down all on his own and looking totally ruined for it, his sleek hair a little sweat-slicked against his forehead and his pupils completely dilated, lashes heavy, whole body flushed. He’s gorgeous. He’s amazing in bed. He’s going to be hard to give up when this is over.

Snow tries not to think about that. He dives into the moment instead—starts meeting Hope’s thrusts and driving Hope up higher, pulling him down harder. Hope cries out every time, screaming himself hoarse and no longer feeling Snow up—now he’s just clinging to Snow for dear life. Snow thrusts greedy fingers into his silk-soft hair and jerks him down for another round of kisses that muffles the screams. He doesn’t seem to have the wherewithal to kiss back, but Snow doesn’t mind dominating them. He thrusts his tongue into Hope’s mouth and licks everywhere he wants, sucks and nips and laps at every nook and cranny. Hope’s ridiculously responsive. He holds onto Snow like he never wants to let go.

There are times when Snow can psyche himself up to go long—he’s had sex for hours at times, made love slow and steady to give his lover two, even three orgasms, but there’s no room for that this time—it’s too new, too exciting, and Hope’s a heady mess of heat and tightness and desperation. Snow still wants to push him down and pound it out. He wants just as much to pull out, stand up, and come all over Hope’s pretty body, painting him from head to toe in seed. His face would be even lovelier with gobs of Snow’s cum smeared across it. But that wouldn’t be nice, and _this_ is too perfect, so Snow holds himself in check and lets Hope drive it. Hope’s wailing in no time, and then he digs his fingers hard into Snow’s shoulders and dampens his boxers—Snow can feel it against his stomach. Hope’s body feels like it’s on fire. He stiffens for a moment, then melts, shivers, his ass practically convulsing around Snow’s cock. His cries turn into withered moans.

Snow only goes a few thrusts more, willing himself now to finish; he doesn’t want to bruise Hope’s tender ass any more than he has to. The orgasm’s just as pleasant, spilling into Hope’s pliant body. He muffles his own roar in the side of Hope’s face and holds back from crushing Hope in his embrace. He milks it out with a few shallow thrusts, then splutters to a stop and stills.

For a few lazy minutes, Hope just stays slumped against him. Hope winces when Snow pulls out, but Hope’s too tight to stay in while he’s flagging. He pets Hope’s hair after and brushes enough away from his forehead to peck it. Hope shivers and rasps, “That... that was amazing...”

Snow completely agrees. Instead he says, “Thanks, kiddo,” and gives Hope another kiss on the cheek.

Hope has a dreamy smile that lingers for a little bit while Snow rubs his back. Then he falls into a frown and asks, “Do I, um... have to leave...?”

Eventually. Unfortunately. Snow glances at the clock over his head and answers, “You can stay awhile longer. You can take a rest if you need it.”

Hope looks very much like he needs. He nods and slides awkwardly out of Snow’s lap, only to curl up at Snow’s side, his boxers still glued to his front and his body still wracked with the occasional tremor, lungs still panting hard. Snow wraps an arm protectively around him, and Hope’s smiling when he shuts his eyes. 

It slips off a few minutes later; Snow wonders if he’s fallen asleep already. Of course, for all Snow knows, he came here after a hard day’s work, much more strenuous than the sort of fun Snow does for a living, and this whole thing was probably an emotionally draining, nerve-wracking experience. Even if it was a great one.

Snow strips off the condom to toss into the waste bin but doesn’t want to get up and clean off for fear of disturbing Hope’s sleep. Before he can settle down for his own rest, he hears the telltale beep in the nightstand drawer of an incoming call. The little rod flashes as he pulls it out, and he flicks it open to hold against his ear, answering quietly, “Hello?”

 _“Am I interrupting?”_ Serah’s voice asks.

“No. The client fell asleep.”

Serah giggles. _“It was that rigorous? Did you have fun?”_

“Yes,” he answers almost begrudgingly, because he can hear the sing-song ‘I knew it’ in her voice. “You were right, it was a good fit for me. ...And I was right: you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

 _“I know,”_ she laughs. _“And you can buy me something nice with the money to prove it.”_

“The biggest chocobo toy they make,” Snow promises. He was probably going to spend it on her anyway. 

She makes a noise of approval and says, _“See you later, Snow,”_ before hanging up. The love’s all over her voice. Snow’s entirely convinced the fal’Cie made her just for him. She couldn’t be more perfect.

...But apparently they also made other fun things for Snow to play with. He looks at Hope again as he tucks the device away. 

Then he cuddles up around his new favourite client, who smiles in his sleep and only nuzzles closer.


End file.
